


stubborn little boy

by tea_at_twilight_time



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (martin uses some trickery), (that jon is fully aware of but still), Age Regression/De-Aging, Caregiver Martin Blackwood, Caregiver Tim Stoker, Diapers, Fluff, Gen, I think that's all I need to warn for, Little Jonathan Sims, Littles Are Known, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Play, also a non-graphic nappy change, also blink-and-you'll-miss-it references to past abuse, but jon's inherently a sad little thing, dubiously consensual diaper checks, either way there's an embarrassing amount of focus on them here lmao, i'm sorry i think it's cute ajlkfdsajlkf, littleverse classification au baby, mentioned caregiver sasha, mostly fluff I think, or nappies technically. british people amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28372566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_at_twilight_time/pseuds/tea_at_twilight_time
Summary: jon, as per usual, tries to resist care. martin, as per usual, doesn't let him.(or, jon needs a change. he also likes to fight changes, unfortunately.)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, mentioned jon & tim & sasha
Comments: 14
Kudos: 82





	stubborn little boy

**Author's Note:**

> this was partially (mostly?) written in the notes on my ipad before that glitched out on me, luckily i thought to save it so aslkdfjaskldf. it's here i've cleaned it up to post it! 
> 
> originally this was going to be a four chapter fic with two of the chapters revolving around sasha and tim individually caring for jon + a chapter with all three assistants but idk if i'm still gonna do that tbh. i might! i'm considering it, i certainly set up some plot points for future chapters in here, so. if i do i might make them their own fics since this is kinda contained, and idk i feel weird retroactively adding chapters cuz i feel like people won't see them and that sucks. we'll see what happens though! 
> 
> for now, though, enjoy this fluffy bullshit! i've always wanted to write and publish a littleverse fic, and now it's finally happening, love that for me <3

Jon is in his office minding his own business when Martin comes in to check on him. 

Really, he should've seen it coming—he’d been left to his own devices for most of the day, it was only natural that someone would eventually come in to see how he's doing. Being the only little in the archives tends to garner him a lot of attention from his _caregiver_ assistants, after all, so really, it was inevitable that Jon would end up in the receiving end of plenty of fussing. 

It’s...annoying. Ever since becoming head archivist, Jon has been trying his damndest to maintain some semblance of maturity _despite_ his classification. He’s in a position of authority now, for Christ’s sake, and while Tim and Sasha do try their best to be more subtle in their fussing (during work hours, at least), Martin is an entirely different beast. He has no qualms about using that soft tone of voice you use on especially young littles at any point when interacting with Jon, and it almost feels like he’s trying to send him toppling into headspace at every possible moment. 

And unfortunately, he’s the one on the other side of the door. Jon's already rolling his eyes as he hears him, trying not to pout when he hears his sing-songy voice from the other side. 

"Jon! It's me!" he calls lightly, annoyingly chipper. "I brought you some tea!" 

Well, at least it’s not a bottle or something like that. Jon grumbles under his breath, kicks his legs viciously under the table, and then calls back, "Fine, fine, come in." 

Martin's smiling when he comes in with the mug, a warm smile that makes Jon feel positively tiny. He puffs out his cheeks and scowls, trying to fend off the looming headspace. 

He earns a coo and a gentle pat on the head for his efforts."Hey there," Martin says gently. "How're we feeling today?" 

Jon hums, taking a sip of his tea. "'m okay," he mumbles, ignoring the way Martin's soft voice is tipping him toward little space. After a moment, he adds, “Wha’ bou’ you?” because Tim and Sasha are trying their best to teach him manners, dang it, and he doesn’t want to disappoint them. 

“I’m alright,” Martin says, shifting his legs and wringing his hands awkwardly. “While I’m here, though, mm...you've been cooped up in here for a while, haven’t you? When was the last time you've had a change?" 

_Oh_. Okay. There’s an ulterior motive to this visit, then. Jon scowls aggressively, bearing his teeth at him and setting his mug now. Choosing to drop all attempts at politeness, he sternly says, "You go now." 

Martin laughs at him. _Laughs_. Jon scowls harder at him, and Martin shakes his head, letting out another little coo. 

“I know you don’t like it, Jon, I know. It’s a pain, isn’t it?” he says, leaning down a little to look him more easily in the eye. “But it’s important that you let us clean you up when you wet. You don’t want a sore tush, do you?” 

Jon's face heats, and he grumbles under his breath, kicking his legs aggressively. "Um..." He pouts, banging his hand lightly on his desk. “Don’ need it. ‘m clean.” 

Martin raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by the assertion. “You are? So you don’t need a change?” 

"No!" Jon says quickly, ducking his head. He puffs out his cheeks and attempts to return to his work, but the littleness seeping in is making his vision hazy. It's hard to read when you're a toddler, after all. 

Martin seems to pick up on this, and he takes a step closer. "Are you sure?" he asks, amusement seeping into his voice. "Do I need to check?" 

Jon puffs out his cheeks, squirming in his seat. "Noooo..." he says, once again kicking the empty air below him. “Go _‘way_.” 

Martin chuckles again. "Jooooon," he sing-songs, his voice obnoxiously affectionate. “C’mon. At least let me check you, then I’ll leave you alone, okay sweetheart?” 

"No!" Jon pouts, wiggling even more in his seat. The worst part of this interaction is that he _is_ wet. He _does_ need a change. But that doesn't mean he's not gonna fight Martin tooth and nail about it. He hates being interrupted when he’s doing things, and changes are an especially irritating interruption. Martin is trying to trick him into giving him one, and he will _not_ let him get away with it. 

Unfortunately, Martin seems to know _exactly_ what he's doing, always one step ahead of him. He looks...amused and _fond_ , and Jon kind of wants to bite him for it. 

"No," he says again, softer this time. The pout increases. 

"It'll just be a quick check." 

Jon sits there for a moment, dropping his hands in his lap. He wiggles in his chair, scowls, and draws his legs up to his chest. "Dun' need it," he whimpers, stamping his foot against the chair. He looks up at Martin, puffing out his cheeks. 

"Oh, Jon, baby...c’mere." Martin moves slowly, taking a few steps forward with a gentle smile. He opens his arms, ready to go in for a hug, and Jon stares at him for a moment. 

It’s not _fair_. Martin knows that he’s just little enough to eagerly accept any hugs offered, and he’s trying to weaponize that against him. It's a trap, Jon knows this for a fact. He huffs, letting go of his legs and kicking them a little. 

Then he lets his feet fall back to the floor and opens his arms anyway, his little instincts taking over the rational side of his brain. He even makes grabby hands for him, despite knowing what he's in for. 

Martin smiles, the smug jerk, and he comes in close, enfolding Jon in his arms and giving him a light squeeze. He rubs his back a little, and Jon nuzzles into his neck with a sigh, clutching onto the back of his impossibly soft sweater. It’s nice. Martin’s hugs are always nice, Jon thinks. 

...and then Martin's finger is hooked into the waistband of his nappy, and Jon lets out an indignant squawk. He bites down on his shoulder in protest, his little space shorthand for _I hate this. Stop that immediately._

"Ow! Hey!" Martin pulls his hand away and pats him gently on the bottom, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, honey, I'm sorry, but...Jon, you _are_ wet. How long have you been sitting in this?" 

Jon huffs, slipping his knuckle into his mouth and chewing on it slightly. Too long. Too long is the answer, but he absolutely refuses to say that. 

His silence says everything, however, and Martin sighs, rubbing his back firmly. 

"Oh, Jon," he coos, rocking him from side to side a little. "Poor baby…” He shakes his head, kissing his forehead. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay? I don't want you to get a rash.” He gathers Jon into his arms and heaves him up against his chest, tucking his head under his chin. "Lord knows you might already have one..." 

Well, he does feel a little...itchy down there. He decides not to tell Martin that, though, the last thing he needs is more fussing, and it's not that big a deal anyway. It’s _fine,_ probably. It's probably definitely fine. And if there is something wrong down there, well...Martin’s about to see it for himself, now, isn’t he. 

He huffs as Martin lays him down on the changing table, a little noise of disapproval so that Martin knows he still doesn’t like this. Then, he proceeds with his usual routine of trying his best to wiggle off of the table, despite knowing there’s an unpleasant drop if he succeeds in his attempts. Which he knows because he has, in fact, succeeded before. It seems that he has forgotten that he’d ended up crying after his little body slammed _painfully_ into the floor, however. 

"Jon, no," Martin says with a little laugh, grabbing him by the waist and dragging him back to the center of it. There are straps hanging off of the sides, and Martin uses them to fasten him in, tightening them just enough to keep him in place. 

Jon whines, kicking his legs a little. He gnaws on his fingers as he watches Martin work, shivering a little as he’s exposed to the cool nursery air. 

"Oh Christ, Jon, you _are_ getting a rash down here!" Martin scolds, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "You have to start telling us when you need a change, sweetheart! I know you have trouble doing it yourself..." 

"Nnnn..." Jon whines, shaking his head. He knocks his foot against Martin's hipbone, digging his teeth into his fingers as he applies cold cream to his sensitive bits. 

"No...?" Martin pauses, seeming to take a moment to consider that. "What do you mean? You know you don't have to be embarrassed, right? Any of us would be happy to change you." He grimaces. "Or, well, not happy exactly, but you know what I mean..." 

Jon huffs, pouting at that. It's not that he's embarrassed. He knows that Martin—not just Martin, Tim and Sasha too—don't mind helping him. Or at least, that's what they say, anyway. 

But the thing is that...well, Jon doesn’t _like_ being little, and changes are a one-way ticket to little space. Tim and Sasha have made it somewhat bearable, but overall, it’s just been kind of a drain on him, honestly. It’s hard to be taken seriously when you’re wearing nappies, or sucking your thumb, or...well, any of the other _stupid_ little habits Jon tries his darnedest to push down when he’s attempting to be professional. And that’s not to mention how...vulnerable he is in his headspace. He trusts his assistants, maybe more than anything, but he knows firsthand what can happen when he’s little around the wrong people. 

It’s scary, and, well, he's pretty good at dealing with the discomfort that comes with avoiding drops, so… 

"Don' need it," he grumbles finally, an answer of sorts to Martin’s questioning stare. 

"Don't...don't need it?" Martin says, eyes wide with uncertainty. "As in. Don't need a change? Because judging by your budding rash I can tell you that's very much untrue—" 

"Nn! No!" Jon shakes his head vigorously, eyes squinting in offense. 

"Then...then what...?" Martin asks, clearly still confused. 

Jon just huffs, turning his face away. Words are too hard for him right now. He feels like Martin should be able to just know his thoughts with the same magic telepathy he used earlier to know he was wet. 

"Er...alright. We'll talk about it later, then." Martin powders him up and tapes him in the fresh nappy, doing up his pants and unbuckling the straps. He scoops him up and carries him to the sink, setting him on the counter while he washes his hands. 

Jon just sits there, fingers still in his mouth and legs kicking slightly. He watches Martin with an intense eye, mostly due to a lack of anything else to focus on. Once he gets bored of that, though, he reaches forward and gently grabs a fistful of his hair, not really wanting anything more than just to feel it in his fingers. 

Oh. Jon's eyes widen a bit, and his fingers curl in a tighter grip. Martin's hair is really nice, actually. Nice and soft. 

Martin, freezes, turning his head slightly to look at him. "Uh, Jon, careful there, okay? You're pulling a little tight..." he says, laughing a little nervously. He rinses his hands quickly and wipes them on his pants, more concerned with getting Jon's slobbery fingers out of his hair than he is with drying his hands properly. 

"Hair!" 

"Yes Jon, you have my hair, please, _please_ be careful with it, my scalp is very sensitive—" 

"Soft..." 

Martin turns a funny red color, and Jon giggles, putting his other hand in his locks. He tugs lightly, cooing softly as he runs his fingers over his head. Martin sighs, leaning down obligingly to allow him more access. 

"It's going to smell like your spit," he laments, but he wraps his arms around him loosely anyway, pulling him a little closer. 

Jon hums, burying his face in the top of his head. Martin's scalp smells of sweat and the shampoo he used last night, a nice strawberry scent, and Jon can't help but feel content like this. He closes his eyes and nuzzles close, continuing to pet the sides of Martin's hair as he does so. 

Martin lets him stay there for a while, longer than he probably should have. Eventually, though, he groans, starting to pull away. 

"Okay...that's enough I think..." 

Jon whines loudly, pulling insistently on Martin's hair. Martin sighs, exasperated but affectionate, and he gently pries his hands away and holds them tightly. 

"Ohhhh, I know, I know, I'm sorry angel," he coos, even as Jon tries to wrestle his hands away. "My back's starting to hurt though..." 

Jon gives him an incredulous look. How _dare_ Martin be unwilling to sacrifice the health of his back for him. Unacceptable. He's furious. 

Martin chuckles at him, tilting his head to the side sweetly. "Jon. Honey. We can't stay like this forever, even if this wasn't a terror on my back." 

"Hair!" Jon's hands flail wildly, even as they're contained within Martin's. 

"I know! I know, I'm happy you like my hair but this just isn't working, love," he says, bringing one of Jon's hands up to his lips. He thinks for a moment, before giving Jon a considering look. "You're too small to get work done now, right?" 

Jon stares blankly at him. Work? As in like...adult stuff? No, no, absolutely not. He shakes his head vigorously and scowls at the thought. 

Martin chuckles again, like warm honey. "Yeah, I didn't think so. How about this: I clock us out for some little time, and we can cuddle in the cot in the storage room? Hmm?" 

Jon tilts his head, thinking it over. Then, quietly, he asks, "Hair?" 

"Goodness, you sure have a one track mind today," Martin teases. "But yes, darling, you can play with my hair." 

Jon stares at him for a moment with big, round eyes. Then, he lets out a pleased little breath and pushes his face into Martin's chest. 

"Mmkay," he mumbles, nuzzling into his jumper. 

Martin smiles, letting Jon's hands drop so he can scoop him up into his arms. He presses a kiss to his head, and Jon slips his thumb into his mouth and suckles softly. Martin laughs lightly, shaking his head. 

"We have _got_ to get you a pacifier," he says, carrying him out of the nursery. 

* * *

When Tim finds the two of them, Martin's laying on the cot, Jon sprawled out on top of him. He's since drifted off against his chest, but one of his hands remains entangled in Martin's hair while the other rests next to his mouth, two fingers slipped firmly between his lips. Martin has an arm wrapped loosely around his waist, the other hand rubbing in between Jon's shoulder blades, and a contented smile hasn’t left his face since he’d started this cuddle session. 

"Oh," Tim says softly. "Hey there." 

"Hi," Martin says just as softly. He jerks his head toward Jon with a fond smile. "Look who I have." 

"You have a baby!" Tim says with a laugh. "Lucky you!" 

Martin shushes him, but he nods, pressing a kiss to the crown of Jon’s head. “Very lucky indeed,” he says quietly, absently. 

Tim takes a few steps forward, leaning against a filing cabinet. “Something wrong?” 

Martin hums, sliding his hand up to the back of Jon’s head, loosely fondling his curls. “Our little boy has a rash,” he says, smiling a little as Jon lets out a cute sleepy noise and nuzzles further into his shoulder. Then, he sighs. “We really ought to do better at checking in on him.” 

Tim bites his lip, worry flooding his own features. “Shit,” he murmurs, nodding his head slightly. “Yeah, fuck. That’s not good.” He tilts his head, running his eyes over Jon’s tiny, twitching form. “I should've known we'd need to check in on him more. It's my bad, really. Poor baby hasn't been as forthcoming with his needs ever since his promotion.” 

“Did he used to be more, er…” Martin pauses, considers his question. “Willing to ask for help?” 

Tim shrugs. “Eh. I mean, he never seemed to feel comfortable with it, but he was more open to being fussed over, that’s sure.” He looks at him with a faint, almost sad smile. “I think he’s having trouble adjusting. All this new responsibility and all that.” 

“Yeah…” Martin turns his eyes back on Jon, his chest filling with warmth at the sight of him curled up against him. “Well...we’re here to help him. I hope he knows that.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Tim says softly. “Think he just has trouble believing it.” 

The two of them lapse into a silence, seemingly ruminating on that. Then, Jon sighs in his sleep, stretching his arms over Martin’s shoulders and nuzzling further into his neck, subconsciously trying to cuddle even closer. Martin smiles a little and squeezes him tight, rubbing his cheek over his hair and letting out a soft coo. 

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Tim says, chuckling lightly, “you guys are adorable.” He straightens up from where he’s been leaning on the cabinet, brushing off his clothes and grinning broadly. “I’ll leave you two to your cuddle session, then. Some bonding time with the baby is good for you.” 

Martin beams at him. “Alright, thank you—” 

“Wait, first!” Tim pulls his phone out of his pocket, aiming it in the direction of the cot. 

Martin’s eyes go wide as soon as he realizes what he’s doing, and he lets out a squeak in protest. “Tim!” he cries, his face turning a furious shade of red. He ducks his face into the top of Jon’s head, shaking his head slightly. “I did not agree to pictures! At least not when my hair’s like this, geez…”

Tim laughs, finally pocketing his phone (only after taking a few more, of course). “What? I can’t help it! I saw something cute, and I had to capture the moment!” 

Martin groans, rolling his eyes fondly. “Get out of here,” he says lightly, shifting Jon a bit so he’s more comfortably settled against him. “Someone is _trying_ to sleep here, thank you.” 

Tim laughs and gives him a salute. “Alright, alright, fine,” he says, blowing two kisses in the cot’s direction. “I love you guys! Have a good rest of your nap.” He quietly backs out of the door, then, turning the lights off before shutting it with a quiet _click_. 

Martin sighs softly, before leaning back and closing his eyes. He may as well take a nap of his own while he’s here. Jon is right there on his chest, after all, a wonderful weight against his chest, and he certainly doesn’t have the want or need to move him. And Tim’s right—a little bit of bonding certainly won’t hurt either of them. With a chest full of warmth and arms full of baby, Martin lets himself off into a contented, dreamless sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> don't know how to end a fic? just send the characters to sleep lmao. anyway i'm just,, relieved i was able to post SOMETHING even though it wasn't any of the things i feel like i need to work on, i've had such a painful writer's block and hgandfnsadf. :'D 
> 
> comments are appreciated! pls. they feed me. also feel free to check me out on tumblr @[twi-writes](https://twi-writes.tumblr.com/)!


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